


The Clothes Make The Man

by KiiKitsune



Category: Captain America (2011)
Genre: Asthma, Established Relationship, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Frottage, M/M, Possessive Behavior, Wearing Partner's Clothes, pre-serum!Steve
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-20
Updated: 2012-06-20
Packaged: 2017-11-08 04:43:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,410
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/439276
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KiiKitsune/pseuds/KiiKitsune
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve is wearing Bucky's shirt.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Clothes Make The Man

**Author's Note:**

> Self-indulgent fic time. I set out to write possessive Bucky and ended up with 1400ish words of adorkable fluff sex. I can’t say I mind all that much.

“You’re wearing my shirt,” Bucky blurted out, frozen in the doorway.

Steve looked down at himself, at the too-big undershirt half-slipping off his narrows shoulders, then back at Bucky, “I got coffee on the one I was wearing and my others are all still drying. I hope you don’t mind...”

Bucky hummed in the back of his throat, “And if I do?”

Steve raised an eyebrow, “Well tough beans then, I guess.” He went back to his drawing.

Bucky closed the door behind him, eyes fixated on Steve’s exposed collar. He moved towards the couch where Steve was sitting, tossing his jacket and hat off, stopping right in front of him.

It took a moment but Steve finally looked up at him, “You’re looming, Buck.”

“You’re wearing my shirt.”

Steve frowned, “It’s just an undershirt, geez. I didn’t think you’d be so—hey!”

Bucky dropped Steve’s stolen sketchbook to the floor without looking, placing one hand on Steve’s shoulder and pushing him back into the threadbare sofa with a soft thump. He put the opposite knee up on the cushion, against Steve’s thigh, boxing him in.

Steve’s eyes widened, a faint blush creeping over his ears and cheekbones. “Oh.”

“Yeah. Oh.” His voice came out rougher than he’d meant it to. The room felt muggy with the late-summer heat. Bucky could feel the sweat trickling down his spine. Steve’s skin was just a little bit slick under his hand. 

For a moment, neither of them moved.

Bucky slid the hand he had on Steve’s shoulder up to the nape of his neck, through the short, damp hairs and into the thicker top layer at the crown. He pulled, lightly, forcing Steve to tilt his head back and let out a shaky breath. Throat bare, the smaller man’s Adam’s apple bobbed.

“Bucky—”

Bucky bent down, tongue sliding over Steve’s bottom lip. He drew it between his teeth, worrying it gently. Steve groaned, mouth dropping open a little further. Bucky’s free hand pressed against Steve’s ribs through loose cotton, curling around his side.

Steve had no idea what to do with his hands. He was still holding the pencil in one. Both were raised up aimlessly. 

Bucky pulled back enough to mouth over his cheek, hot breath fanning over his jaw, “Get my belt.”

Steve dropped the pencil, obediently reaching forward and searching out Bucky’s waist. He fumbled over the buckle, unable to see what he was doing, but got it free eventually. The dark brown leather slithered free like a snake, coiling up beside Steve’s sketchbook. Steve popped the button on Bucky’s trousers before Bucky could ask.

Bucky huffed a laugh and captured Steve’s mouth properly, grip shifting to cradle Steve’s skull. 

When they broke apart Steve was panting, hair a mess, his chest heaving under Bucky’s grip.

Bucky paused, “Too much?”

Steve shook his head, speaking in between gasps, “Just give me a second.”

His thumb found one of Steve’s nipples, rubbing it slowly through the shirt while he waited for Steve’s breathing to even out. 

Steve arched into the touch after a few moments. “I’m good.”

Kissing him again, a little less deeply, Bucky yanked his own tie loose. He pulled back to unbutton his shirt, taking in Steve’s loose sprawl beneath him. Steve’s eyes darted down to Bucky’s half-open slacks.

“Can I...?”

“After that? No way. The last thing I want is for you to actually choke on my cock.”

“Bucky!” Steve’s flush darkened, spilling out over his shoulders and down under the shirt. 

With a laugh he twisted and dropped down beside Steve. Reaching over, he grabbed Steve’s far arm and pulled. Steve scrambled a bit but managed to straddle Bucky’s lap without incident. 

Looping a thin arm around Bucky’s neck, chests aligning, Steve kissed Bucky firmly. Bucky rolled up against him, hands finding Steve’s backside and dragging his hips closer. 

Steve leaned away, yanking Bucky’s undershirt out of his pants. His button up was still on, so Steve settled for hiking the undershirt up to his clavicle. Meanwhile, Bucky made quick work of Steve’s belt. 

Steve’s pants were too loose, sliding down past his hips without anything to hold them up. Bucky pulled them down further, making a frustrated noise. 

“Off. I wanna see you in just my shirt.”

Using Bucky’s shoulders for leverage he pushed up onto his feet, letting the pants fall to his ankles before kicking them off entirely. Bucky’s fingers slid up his thighs, seeking out the waistband of his underwear beneath the extra long undershirt. White briefs followed Steve’s pants a few seconds later.

Bucky sat back, whistling appreciatively, “I think you should keep it.”

Steve fidgeted, pulling up a strap that had fallen down, “It doesn’t even fit.”

Bucky took his hand, leading him forward again, “Looks just fine to me.”

Steve eyed him sourly, “Your undershirt fell back down.”

“So take it off.”

Steve grabbed a hold of Bucky’s button-up, pulling it apart and down his arms swiftly. He didn’t bother to take it out of Bucky’s pants, so Bucky slipped his hands out of the cuffs and let it hang loose. He held his arms straight up for Steve to yank his undershirt over his head, then wrapped them around Steve’s midsection and dragged him back onto the couch. Steve tripped a little, hitting Bucky’s lap harder than was strictly comfortable. It was a good thing Steve was light. 

Their foreheads bumped, like they were huddled up at a football game. Bucky held Steve’s head with both hands, thumbs resting on Steve’s temples, keeping him in place. 

“You should wear my things more often. I like it.”

“Why?” Steve’s hands trailed down Bucky’s chest, down to the dark trail starting just below his navel. Steve followed it and pulled Bucky’s cock from his slacks. Bucky licked his lips but didn’t let Steve go.

“Marking my territory? I don’t know. I didn’t even know I wanted it ‘till now.”

Steve rolled his eyes but stroked slowly from base to tip anyways. Bucky tilted him in for a kiss then released Steve’s head. He rucked up Steve’s shirt instead, letting Steve’s erection bob free. 

Angling his hips forward, Steve wrapped his fingers loosely around them both. Bucky thrust into it, petting Steve’s flank and letting his head drop onto the back of the couch. 

Stroking faster, Steve reached out and traced the lines of muscle on Bucky’s torso. He chased a drop of sweat down to Bucky’s abdomen, then found another caught in his sternum. Steve smeared it like he’d smudge charcoal across paper. 

Bucky snaked a hand down between them to join Steve’s, holding tighter. Steve hissed through his teeth at the increased friction. Bucky dropped the undershirt. It pooled at the base of Steve’s prick. 

“I want you to come on it.”

“Aw, Buck, no. I’m not gonna—”

Bucky twisted his hand, forcing Steve to cut off with a high keening noise. 

“Come on, do it.”

Steve was panting. “I’m not gonna be the one to wash it.”

“Maybe I don’t want you to.”

Steve groaned, thighs tensing as he got closer. “You—you can’t just say stuff like that.”

“Sure I can,” Bucky’s own breathing had gone a little ragged, “I want you to wear my shirt, and I want you to know we had sex while you were wearing it. I want you to remember this every time you look down at yourself. I want you to—”

Steve slapped a hand down on his mouth, feeling Bucky’s lips pull into a smirk beneath his palm. 

His throat was tight, gut coiling, eyelids fluttering closed. Bucky dropped his own cock and just worked Steve’s, like he knew exactly how close Steve was to the edge. He probably did.

Bucky thumbed over the slit and that was it. Steve came with a drawn out moan, cum mostly landing on Bucky’s belly. A few drops hit the shirt though.

He slumped. Bucky pulled him in close, letting him rest his head on Bucky’s shoulder. Steve nestled into Bucky’s neck, mouthing down the side. 

Still hard, Bucky rocked up against him. A few more rolls of his hips and he was cumming too. The shirt was a total loss, really.

Eventually, Steve peeled himself away, still flushed a bright red. He made a face at the sticky fabric.

“I’m going to have to soak this in the sink now. I hope you’re happy.”

Bucky, unhelpfully, kissed him through the laughter.


End file.
